Chapter 136: Frontline
The convoy moved on, the scouts and soldiers using their guns to deal with the zombies in their way. Allen asked, "I thought you had no guns and only used medieval weapons?"
"Had no guns? Is that how the others see us?" Souta smiled and said, "That's nice. The world underestimate us too much. Well, whatever. You'll find out soon enough. So be quiet and wait."
Allen clenched his teeth and looked away. The convoy didn't stop for hours. They seemed used to traveling. They didn't need to take a break or anything. They just continued. And they ate while they were in the convoy. Allen looked outside. It was night, but they still kept on traveling.
The night sky stretched above, filled with stars that sparkled in the darkness. The hum of the convoy echoed through the night, a force pushing them forward into the unknown.
Inside the van, the soft light showed the soldiers and scouts finding their way through the remains of a world that was once familiar. The smell of food filled the air, a mix of rations and sustenance eaten during the journey.
Allen, still adapting to the twists of fate, watched the surroundings through the van's windows. The moonlight gave an ethereal glow to the landscape—a desolate scene of ruins, twisted metal, and overgrown plants. The night was quiet, except for the engine's hum and the occasional moans of zombies.
As the convoy crossed the quiet terrain, Allen's senses took in the complexities of the post-apocalyptic world. The metallic smell of wet earth lingered, mixing with the aroma of shared meals in the tight space. He could hear the low conversations of soldiers, sharing words that showed the camaraderie from shared challenges.
The journey went smoothly, the convoy moving through the remains of cities and highways. The occasional flicker of distant fires showed settlements or outposts in the darkness. Allen's curiosity fought with his fear as he wondered about the unknown path ahead.
Hours passed, and the night got darker. The van's interior became a cocoon of shared purpose, lit by the dim lights and the soft moonlight. The steady rhythm of wheels on cracked asphalt became a hypnotic sound to the thoughts that came with the journey.
Through the window, Allen saw brief scenes—a skeleton skyline against the night, crumbling structures that once held civilization, and the occasional starlight on wet plants. The senses of sight, sound, and smell blended, creating a mosaic of experiences in the post-apocalyptic journey.
As the convoy moved on, the night revealed its mysteries, covering the travelers in a cloak of uncertainty and possibility. Allen, still a captive observer in this story, thought about the meaning of his unexpected journey—a journey that went beyond survival and hinted at the complexities of rebuilding in a broken world.
Morning unfolded, and the convoy reached the frontline. The soldier at the van's door opened it, and Souta stepped out. Instantly, a sea of soldiers formed a line, saluting in unison. "Greetings, your Majesty!"
Rex, the frontline's commander, approached Souta. "Your Majesty, I've advised against your presence here."
"It's just a horde of zombies, Rex. Nothing too extraordinary," Souta replied dismissively.
"But for the king to be on the frontline—it's unusual," Rex insisted.
"Doesn't matter. I have some time to spare. Show me this horde you've been struggling with," Souta declared.
Rex sighed and motioned for Souta to follow. They made their way toward the command center after dismissing the soldiers.
A frontline soldier approached Allen. "Allen, right?"
"Yeah," he responded.
"His Majesty has assigned me to look after you," the soldier informed.
"Look after me? Fine, lead the way," Allen said indifferently.
The soldier guided him towards the frontline.
The frontline bustled with a symphony of activities as soldiers meticulously tended to their duties. The metallic tang of gun oil lingered in the air, blending with the faint scent of damp soil. The soldiers, clad in worn-out uniforms, moved with purpose—some maintaining their firearms with focused precision, others engaging in training exercises that echoed through the open field.
The sporadic laughter and camaraderie between soldiers created a background hum, intermingling with the occasional commands shouted by officers. As Allen walked through the bustling scene, the visual tapestry unfolded: tents erected for brief respite, soldiers sharing stories, and the distant clang of metal against metal as weapons underwent inspection.
The sunlight streamed through the clouds, casting a warm glow over the area, creating a stark contrast to the ominous shadows of the approaching horde in the distance. The landscape, scarred by the remnants of battles fought, bore witness to the resilience of those determined to protect what remained of their world.
The sounds, smells, and sights melded together in a sensory mosaic, reflecting the intricate dance of life on the frontlines in the midst of a post-apocalyptic struggle for survival.